


We’re Alone And We’re Alive

by octothorpetopus



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt Derek Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, POV Penelope Garcia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: In a moment of crisis, many things become clear. That’s never more true than on the night Derek Morgan gets shot.
Relationships: Penelope Garcia/Derek Morgan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	We’re Alone And We’re Alive

The hospital was so very quiet. Too quiet. To Penelope, it seemed like it should have been loud and swarming with people, as chaotic as the thoughts bouncing around her head.  _ Derek. Derek is hurt. Something happened and now Derek is in the hospital and the hospital is too damn quiet.  _ She hadn’t known what was happening when Hotch called her at half-past midnight, waking her from what had been a very restful sleep, but then he had said something along the lines of “Morgan got shot in pursuit” and she was already out of bed, throwing on the nearest clothes that weren’t pajamas and running out the door, hardly remembering to lock it behind her. Makeup-less, with her hair lying flat against her shoulders, in just jeans and a gray sweatshirt, she had never felt more exposed. Or maybe that was just the fact that her best friend in the entire world was lying on an operating table somewhere in GW University Hospital and she had been dreaming about drinking margaritas on Ryan Reynolds’s yacht. 

“How is he?” was the first thing she asked upon spotting Emily and JJ across the ER waiting room, leaning on each other for support. Spencer sat against the wall, bouncing his leg and biting his nails. 

“He’s in surgery,” Hotch said, and he and Rossi appeared around the corner, holding a tray of hospital cafeteria coffee. He offered one of the cups to Penelope with as comforting a smile as he could manage. “Milk, two sugars, right?” She nodded, and at that moment, wanted to cry.

“What happened?” Penelope sat down next to Spencer and squeezed his hand with the hand that wasn’t holding the coffee. Even now, she wanted to make sure everyone else was okay, and she couldn’t tell if that was wrong or not.

“We were in pursuit of the unsub,” Emily said, biting her lip. She was trying not to cry too, Penelope realized. They all were. “And we split up.”

“I went with him,” Spencer said softly. “I was supposed to have his back.”

“I’m sure you did, sweetheart.” Penelope’s heart broke as she looked at Spencer, who was too young to watch his friends die.

“Not really,” he said matter-of-factly. “I should have known better. We profiled the unsub as someone who knew what they were doing. He managed to miss the vest and shoot Morgan once in the side, once in the collarbone” Penelope’s breath caught in her throat. 

“It’s not your fault, babe. It’s not any of your faults. Did you at least get the guy?” JJ nodded.

“He’s in custody in Virginia.”

“Good.” Penelope sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “When was the last time any of you slept?” Rossi shook his head.

“We’re not going home, Garcia.”

“I’m not telling you to. Just take a seat and get some rest, you all must be exhausted. I’ll stay up and wait for the doctors.” It wasn’t five minutes before everyone else was passed out in the seats around her, but Penelope couldn’t have slept even if she tried, and not just because Rossi was snoring to her right. Was this what Derek had felt like after she had been shot almost four years ago? Because if it was, she regretted every second she had ever spent without him, every time she had said no when he wanted to go out, every text that she had sent instead of just calling. 

“Excuse me, are you the ones that brought in Derek Morgan?” Penelope’s head snapped up as a doctor approached, still in the green surgical scrubs she must have been wearing in the operating room. She nodded silently, so as not to wake her sleeping friends. “I have his emergency contact listed as a…” The doctor checked her clipboard. “Penelope Garcia?”

“That’s me. Is he…?” She didn’t finish the question.

“He made it through the surgery. The internal damage was extensive, but we managed to repair most of it.”

“So, is he going to live or not?” Penelope mentally cursed herself for snapping, it was just that she was so damn scared.

“Unfortunately, it’s up in the air right now, ma’am. It really depends on if he wakes up in the next few hours.”

“And if he doesn’t?” The doctor looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now.

“If he doesn’t, that may mean he lost too much blood in the field. Because of where the bullet entered his body, right at the junction between the chest and neck, it’s possible there wasn’t enough blood supply to his brain. If the brain is deprived of enough blood for enough time…” Penelope understood. 

“But we won’t know until he wakes up?”

“If he wakes up, yes.” Penelope tried to stand, but her legs were wobbly and she collapsed back down into her seat.

“Can I see him?”

“As long as it’s just you. I’ll alert your friends when they wake up and you can all see him one at a time.” Penelope got up, a little steadier now, but still not steady enough, and followed the doctor through the hospital to the eerily quiet ICU. “He’s in the room at the very end of the hall on the left. You can’t miss it.” She waved a vague gesture of thanks at the doctor, but she was locked in on Derek. She paused outside his room, staring at him through the plexiglass sliding door. In all the time they had known each other, she had never seen him look so vulnerable. With gauze taped across his chest, he looked so fragile, like a statue she could break if she just touched it wrong. As softly as she could, she slipped through the door, careful not to slam it behind her, and sat down in the not-quite-uncomfortable armchair beside his bed. Hesitantly, she took his hand in hers, rubbing absentminded circles over his knuckles with her thumb. His hands were cold, and that made her want to break down in tears. He was always so warm. In the winter she joked that she didn’t need a space heater in her freezing office as long as he was there, because he was her own personal radiator. Whenever she made those jokes, he would wrap his arms around her and squeeze. 

“Feels just like summer, huh?” he would say, and then kiss the top of her head. More than anything now, she wanted it to feel like summer in his arms again. 

“Do you remember the first time we ever really hung out together?” she asked, half-expecting an answer. No answer came, but she kept going. “You came down to my office and asked for help with your laptop, only you said you forgot your laptop. And then you sat down at the desk and ate my cookies and you made me laugh. I always knew you didn’t need help with your laptop, you know. I’m pretty smart like that. You came down to talk to the new kid. I never thanked you for that. You were the first person here who didn’t terrify me. You’re terrifying me now, though, babe.” She squeezed his hand so hard her knuckles turned white, and pressed his cold, dry fingers against her forehead. “You can’t die, Derek. I won’t allow it. Because if you die, there won’t be anyone to call me when it’s late and everyone’s on a case and I’m back here in my office alone. If you die, there won’t be anyone to make me go jogging at six in the morning because you’re worried I spend too much time behind a desk. If you die, there won’t be anyone who’ll eat my chili-chocolate chip cookies, because you’re the only one who likes them.” A shiver ran down Penelope’s spine, and she felt goosebumps spread up and down her arms. More than anything, she wanted his hands to be warm again. Even if he wasn’t awake, she just wanted him to be warm. To squeeze her hand and take her in his arms and make her feel like life wasn’t just a hair’s breadth from falling away. “Speaking of, if you make it out of here- when you make it out of here, I’ll make you as many cookies as you want. I’ll even make you cake. And I’ll come over to your house and take care of you just like you took care of me when I got shot. You have to live so I can do that, so I can make it up to you.” Head bowed, Penelope Garcia almost prayed. She had never been the praying type, her family wasn’t particularly religious when she was growing up, and whatever faith she had disappeared when her parents died. But Derek believed. And maybe if he believed, that was all that was important. Still, she couldn’t seem to muster the courage to talk to God. She only wanted to talk to him. “If you die, I’ll have to quit, you know. Because they’ll put your picture on the wall and I’ll have to walk past it every day and I can’t do that. And I’ll have to get laser tattoo removal because I can’t see your nickname for me on my body every day if you’re not waiting for me here to call me that. But mostly, you can’t die because if you do, I’ll never forget you, not even for a second, and if I have to think about you all the time knowing that you’re gone and I’ll never really see you again, I don’t think I could go on living. Because you are always on my mind, Derek. When you’re home, when you’re gone, you are always on my mind. That’s what love is, you know? And the thing about love is that if the person you love is alive and doesn’t love you, then you can move on because you know, you know you’re not in love. But if they die before you know, then you have to live with that for the rest of your life. Please-“ her voice broke. “Please don’t make me live with knowing that for the rest of my life.” That was the first time she’d ever said it out loud, without any sarcasm, any jokes. “Because I love you, Derek. And my point here, my point in listing all of these reasons you can’t die, is that there’s so much that goes into why I love you. You can’t die because I love you. Period.” Her head fell against the mattress, and tears tracked down her cheeks, pooling in the hollow of her throat. She hardly noticed the first time his hand twitched in hers. The second time, he squeezed her hand. It was gentle, and only momentary, but noticeable enough to make her head snap up. His eyes were open now, the glossy brown puppy-dog eyes she was so fond of. 

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said, his voice low and raspy. He let go of her hand just long enough to reach up and brush the tears off her face.

“Derek!” She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek. “Jesus Christ!”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too, babygirl.” He coughed and winced painfully. “Can you get me some water?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She poured him a glass from the pitcher on the bedside table and gently lifted his head to help him drink.

“Thank you,” he said, and rolled his head sideways to look at her, smiling weakly. She returned the smile, and then slapped him. It wasn’t particularly hard, but hard enough to hurt. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“For getting shot and scaring the hell out of me!”

“I got shot, woman! Is that not enough punishment?” Penelope bit her lip, and then kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry. How are you?” Derek shrugged as much as he could.

“I’m on a lot of painkillers right now, so not too bad.” He stared up at the ceiling, his face serene but pensive. “Can I ask you something, Pen?”

“Shoot. Wait. Bad choice of words. Anyway, yes.”

“Did you mean what you said?” She froze.

“When I said what?” He didn’t respond, just arched an eyebrow expectantly, and she knew. She knew exactly what he meant, only she didn’t know how he knew. “Wait a minute, when did you wake up?”

“Hmm… around ‘I’ll even make you cake’.” Her jaw dropped in shock.

“You were awake for that long and you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to see where you were going with it.” She fought the urge to slap him again, but then came to a gutting realization.

“So you heard…”

“Everything after that, yeah.” Dropping her eyes to the floor, Penelope sighed and relaxed her grip on his hand. He didn’t let go, though. He held on with renewed strength, something that must have taken a lot of effort judging by the concentration etched into his forehead. “Pen.”

“What?” Her breathing was rapid now.

“Look at me.” She forced her eyes back to his face, the face she loved. He held up her hand and she propped her chin up on their interlocked fingers. “Can you tilt me up?” After a moment of searching, Penelope found the button that tilted the bed up. He winced, but didn’t cry out. With his free hand, he reached over and tipped her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. And then, with a sudden change in intensity, he pulled her towards him and kissed her hard. He groaned softly, but ignored whatever pain he must have been feeling. His lips were dry and cracked, but warm. He was so warm. Penelope melted into him like ice cream on a hot summer day, tracing circles on his sharp cheekbones with her thumbs.

“Oh!” She gasped, her face flushing as he let her go. “Good lord. Um. Wow.”

“That was right, right?” Penelope laughed, somewhat hysterically, and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Ahem. Sorry. Yes. That was right.” His face settled back into a brilliant white smile.

“Good, because I’ve been resisting the urge to do that for the last seven years.” She bit the inside of her cheek and flushed a deep red. 

“I should let the doctor know you’re up. We really weren’t sure you would, you know.” Tears started to well up in her eyes again, but she blinked them back. “I’m really glad you did.”

“As long as you’re here, I’ll always have something to come back to, babygirl.” Overwhelmed by his sudden sincerity, Penelope kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand. 

“I have to go tell Reid, at the very least. He thinks he might as well have shot you himself.” Derek nodded.

“Go. Tell them.” As she turned to leave, he called out once more after her. “Hey, Pen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not ever gonna leave you, you know?” Normally, she would have rolled her eyes and ignored him, because how could he possibly know that? But this time, he was honest and genuine and earnest, and she had no choice but to believe him.

“Nor I you,” she replied, and slid the plexiglass door behind her. As she walked back down the hall towards the waiting room, she could feel his eyes follow her, and she couldn’t keep from beaming. In fact, she beamed as she told the doctor, she beamed as she woke her friends, and she beamed the whole way home, falling back into bed just as the barest traces of sunrise appeared over the horizon. As she slept, too exhausted to change back into her pajamas, her head floated with dreams of chili-chocolate chip cookies, early morning jogs along the Potomac, and freezing winter days spent curled in the arms of her own personal human radiator.


End file.
